Ringmistress
by deedeem
Summary: For better or worse, Ginny Weasley was a really stubborn witch with strong conviction and aspirations. A quality that definitely drove her mom crazy since most of her "convictions and aspirations" were at odds with the conventional way of living a life. And for that reason, Ginny Weasley, is on the need of saving that circus. Or maybe were those beautiful green eyes. Who knows?


_Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling._

 _(*Notes at the end of the chapter)_

 **RINGMISTRESS**

 **Deedeem**

 _For better or worse, Ginny Weasley was a really stubborn witch with strong conviction and aspirations… A quality that definitely drove her mom crazy since most of her "convictions and aspirations" were at odds with the conventional way of living a life. It was her "instinct". A powerful force of action, an unstoppable will… a hunch. And for that reason, Ginny Weasley, a witch who always believed in her guts, is on the need of saving_ Evan´s Circus and Wonder from a tragic end _._

 _Or maybe were those beautiful green eyes, looking at her from the top of the trapeze, convincing her of this madness._

 _Who knows?_

Ⅰ

It was one of those moments that presses you to reflect; and wrapped by the consequences of one of her last _misdeeds_ , there was no other way out there. She needed to accept the facts for what they were and... reflect. In what exactly? That was the question running a marathon of 40 km inside her head without stopping, while the crowded lobby cradled her thoughts in the midst of watching, with selfless interest, busy people going back and forth with their routines. It wasn't like she felt any remorse for her actions; and to reconsider the facts, even for the sake of not getting bored, was a nuisance not worth it of contemplate. Her mother was, masterfully, doing the task of making her feel foolish enough about her last achievements. There was no need to dig a little further into _that_ hole. Yes, without a doubt, it had been a silly and foolish situation. But it was her need for brag about it the problem. For sure, her stubbornness could reach unsuspected levels. And by the end of that road, even with a mother keeping open old wounds and a bunch of siblings with a subtlety as light as concrete, Ginny Weasley still gloated in her perfect universe full of mistakes.

Or better called: necessary life experiments.

His mother obviously thought differently, however, Ginny had done the _prove her wrong_ a major league sport. Well, _The Longbottom Debacle_ was a stupid scenario that should had been avoided, not question asked. Ginny wasn't that _kind_ of dunce to not accept it.

But, what about the rest?

Internship in Romania? Short, bumpy and dangerous, but effective; there was no one able to deny now her knowledge on fantastic creatures. _Little pride of brother dearest_ was what Ginny read on the golden plate that Charlie send her last spring.

Her little season at The Auror Academy? Yes, her mother still accused Ginny of shortening her lifespan a few years less. Not forgetting the constant frigidness on her left arm after a bumpy ill-executed regrowth next to an abrupt training session. But out of considering it a short failure, Ginny took it as a way to prove a very important point: fragile and helpless she was not. Besides, _Expulsion_ wasn't the term issued on her record: _Voluntarily Withdrawal of the Force_ , was the words spelled prettily on the paper after Ginny Weasley decided that, retreated in exchange of spare the bastard who tried to touch her ass and dodge a week on Azkaban, was a pretty fair deal. Poor bastard probably was still trying to find his balls deep in the middle of his kidneys.

What about her last…shenanigan?

Deep in her purse, hidden among the variety of rubbish she never discarded from her daily life, was the last issue of The Prophet. Three days was exactly the time it took to make public her last mistake _._

 _Reflecting_ , immediately, ceased to be an option.

Not when half of London was now reading about her brashness in the middle of their tea and breakfast. Resentful, Ginny Weasley concentrated a little more of her little enthusiasm on observing the surroundings. Out of sight, but not complete shrouded from everyone, even though the hat and the smart clothing confused her most shrewd of her troop of brothers, Ginny was sure that the Ministry and his employees would pass by the witch with the oversize red purse.

A really curious choreography, she noticed, occupying a table in the Ministry small kiosk of Butterbeer and tea. Bused to ignore the immense pink elephant in her life with the tenacity of a woman raised under the scrutiny of an overprotective mother and six siblings, Ginny Weasley devoted herself to provided almost a medical attention to the Ministry of Magic atrium.

The rest of the tables on _The Petit Tavern of Madame Toulouse_ were occupied by employees who chatted at the speed of a busy day; they were drinking the special tea of Madame Toulouse. The one which produced a curious reaction of red nose and steam out of the ears. Ginny only drank a sip of her drink without finding something moderately interesting on those tables. Throughout the lobby, wizards and witches dressed in the compulsory Ministry blue, followed their life with frantic urgency. Boring routines. An already sore thought after being only minutes away from surrendering in body and soul to one of _those Boring Routines._ Two wizards chatting by the fountain. A witch casting small cosmetic spells on her cheeks while inspecting the work on her compact mirror and next to her, another witch focusing on applying lipstick while telling her companion something between giggles. A long cue of people in front of the elevators that was getting longer and longer from more employees, while chimneys were flushing out wizards and witches in ashes to the atrium.

A busy day at the Ministry, nothing new about it.

And Ginny may had been the passive spectator if it wasn't for the copy of The Prophet held on the hands of the vast majority of people gathered in the lobby.

Pledged to live with their tedious lives, they were scrapping with cruel fascination the last headline of The Prophet. Casting glances over their shoulders perhaps with hope of finding the protagonist of _the_ last Skeeter scandal.

Of course, her _little_ slip of madness was more interesting than their lives. That was crystal clear for Ginny. No matter how much she considered notable the article about those new laws in favor of werewolves on page six. Or in page three, where the analysis behind Albus Dumbledore's decision to support the cause in favor of magical creatures, occupied a small corner supporting the weight of cheap publicity on any new garbage that the Ministry was dedicated to promoted. Even the emotional letter on page nine – just behind a bunch of coupons – of a Squib whose husband, an honest werewolf who made a living with woodwork, now paid an unfair six-month sentence of questioning for being considered...unpredictable.

No, Skeeter's last article WAS DEFINITELY much more earth-shattering.

Ginny glanced at her wristwatch, the huge, heavy and a little hideous device that Charlie used to wear until he needed an uglier and bigger watch, and noticed with regret that she still had a couple of more minutes left to arrive frustratingly late for her appointment.

Blessed Circe!

She would never have guessed that annoying someone could be so boring. With the deepest and most dramatic sigh she could hurled out of her mouth, Ginny set out to give the environment one more chance to be observed for another ten minutes.

Aurors were still chatting animatedly everywhere, probably about their latest raid in that veela brothel on Knockturn Alley. One of her brothers, Ron, had been acting wary and…angsty after that. Not a full surprise, since Ron best friend, Seamus Finnegan, was a regular in _Bewitch;_ and in her short time as an Auror apprentice, Ginny used to help on hiding their misbehaving with the Aurors. And their mothers.

Witches were still whispering to each other, giggling like teenagers in between the Skeeter Scandal article and the last Witch Weekly take on. Since _The Longbottom Debacle,_ situation that Ginny was ignoring with great performance, it was only a matter of seconds for every witch in London to start the _Neville Longbottom Wars_. After yanking off that ass out of the market for too long and, sadly, needed to give back once she realized that having a sexual relationship with your best friends was a no-go, Ginny was waiting for the other shoe to drop. THANKFULLY, shy and gentle Neville had the delicacy of throwing rumors out of Ginny's path so, even with the knowledge of an existing ex-girlfriend, her name wasn't on the suspect list.

Thank fucking Merlin.

Ginny's problems, although being ignored by her, were enough to handle.

Suppressing a shudder on her spine, Ginny noticed how more and more employees, feeling angry for the overflowing cue to take the elevator, were occupying the rest of the tables surrounding her. Everyone of them with a Prophet on their hands.

Shit.

But only one had The Quibbler at three table from hers.

Oh...

"How come I haven't seen him before?", she though.

Right in front of her, with his legs resting on the smooth surface of the table that some poor employee would have to clean later, there was no doubt… A wizard, on plain sight, enjoying the crossword of page two of The Quibbler.

Ginny considered it an anomaly and set out to scrutinize such a mystery.

There was no ONE, sane, in London who would be interested with The Quibbler. Dark, complex, sometimes incompressible and almost always impossible to believe, only someone like Xenophilus and Luna Lovegood, could managed to cook such eccentricity. Ginny was only one of the few _insane_ people subscribed to their newsletter. Knowing them since…forever, was hard not to. Besides, Luna was her best friend and yes, Ginny adored The Quibbler. Period.

Apparently, she was not the only one to enjoy the just – but sometimes defied - true source of information in London.

The table of Luna's crossword enthusiast was a distance not so far from hers, it was easy for Ginny to see that the stranger was just going to start the sixth vertical line: six-letter, creature name that infests mistletoe and are nefarious thieves. It was almost impossible for Ginny to stop the snort that she wanted to get out of her lips.

Nargle. An easy one.

She took notice of that stranger, who obviously did not know the answer, filling the six squares with question marks. Wise decision. Next line: three letters, specific function of the rubber duck. Oh, that was difficult, Muggle culture was Luna's second niche of knowledge. Her first was magical creatures that, surely, weren't real. A renewed enthusiasm, almost out of that world, prompted Ginny to look for her Quibbler copy.

"FUN, three exact letters"

With smug authority, Ginny turned to see the new member of the Quibbler Fan Club. Fun. Nine letters. Ginny never thought of seeing him write with her same _smug authority_ that statement. Ok, so in front of her was an expert, uh?

It is fucking on.

Ginny turned her sights on the Quibbler and investigated the other eight questions with Muggle references. Each and every one of them had already been answered that morning next to the English breakfast that her mother, in consolidation by the sour fate of her only daughter, prepared for her. By the time she set out to glorify on her knowledge, Ginny discovered that the man has just finished the fourth muggle question of the crossword puzzle. As an expert.

Ok, fine. Ginny Weasley never refused a battle.

She took her purse and set out to look for her pen, yet she stopped herself from going further noticing a series of discrepancies on that man. Paying too much attention to the crossword event, Ginny had ignored from the beginning the most crucial thing of all.

At the heart of the most intense winter, each wizard and witch carried their best cape, their best hat and their best spell to prevent the unforgiven cold season. She herself wore the winter cape that her brother Bill had brought her from one Russia, a comfortable robe that she hoped would make her look smart but pretty, with her thick stockings, gloves, scarf and her inseparable witch hat, bewitched to never dishevel the wearer.

That man... Well, although dressed for the winter with cape and hat, it was the ABSOLUTELY muggle garments hidden under his open robe that caught Ginny's eye.

And the boots.

How not to notice the thick, intimidating boots with chains and skulls on his feet.

So, a muggleborn.

Interesting.

It wasn't the only thing flashing to catch her attention. Beyond the fact that he was a wizard with muggle parents, sitting in the Ministry of Magic, enjoying tea while filling the Quibbler crossword, her eyes were peering with shock on the little puffskein...no, the pink pygmy puff, snoozing on top of his right shoulder. The best-selling merchandise from her brothers, Fred and George, at their shop in Diagon Alley. Alright, that was something unexpected. Being a popular purchase between children and younger Hogwarts student, seeing a wizard adult carrying one in public was a sight of lifetime.

Ginny only needed to lean a little to her left to noticed it, but there it was: the last item to complete the full mystery. A dark and elongated wand shining out of his right sleeve. A wand-holder, maybe? The typical type of gear wore by Aurors.

"Curiouser and Curiouser!", thought Ginny, recalling what her father, a lover of all Muggle-related, liked to say. "Is he an Auror?", she wondered, aware that she also wore one of those.

Looking around, Ginny found in cue to board the elevator three aurors. Three dark figures dressed in dark red robes easy to identify among the blue herd of Ministry employees. Two others whispered to each other in front of the large fountain in the atrium, and other one was enjoying tea by himself with his ears flushed at the farthest table at Mandame Toulouse. Every one of them, Ginny could saw, were wearing a wand-holder.

Ginny looked back at the stranger.

No, he definitely wasn't an Auror.

He definitely wasn't carrying that aura of urgency that Aurors brandished in their day-to-day life. Something Ginny learned to recognize after her little apprenticeship at the Academy.

But there was no time to investigate the mystery further.

She saw him looking at his wrist, a wristwatch almost as big and ugly as hers, contemplating it only for a few seconds before stepping up from the chair. For some reason, after the abruptness of his movement, Ginny took into account something that she, rarely, overlooked: his face.

Yes, it was... a pretty decent face.

With the right angles on the right places, but still with an almost delicate complexion. Yes, that was pretty DAMN decent face. Not like those that made girls drool on fawn over it. The _next-door-neighbor_ kind of face, a face that you could call cute or handsome at the same time, but you won't never see at the Witch Weekly Magazine cover page.

Maybe it was the glasses.

Ginny liked how, with those, his face plummeted two notches down making him more…approachable. Hard to explain if she was being honest. But after the whole Longbottom thing, whose perfect dimples and perfect smile more that once were guest honors on every month Witch Weekly Magazine cover page, Ginny was seeing herself falling towards the most common and welcoming type of guy.

Guys like this wizard. Who, now that Ginny thought about it, were a little bit too familiar for her? Ginny knew, right away, that she knew him. But... From where? Hogwarts?

Impossible! She definitely would know!

Standing and adjusting his robe, which did too little to hide his very muggle clothes, the mystery wizard tucked his copy of The Quibbler on his jacket and shook awake the little pygmy puff on his shoulder.

"Come on, Po", he said. "We're gonna be late, buddy. Better not keep big old' Fudgy waiting. I promised being mom date later, and I don't want to disappoint. I'm sure you relate homie, we don't want to make the lady mad again at us, uh?"

No, his voice was a pleasant baritone to her ears, but it did not help Ginny to find him on her list of acquaintances.

"Curiouser and Curiouser!".

Ginny was bored enough to waste the time of her next urgent appointment by deciphering the enigma before her eyes.

His table was near enough for her to absorb the rest of the details. And one of those were his hands. And no, she wasn't, really, taking in account any size innuendo that probably could show up on her mind. No, Ginny was only noticing all the bandages covering his fingers. The callous on his palms and the collection of tiny cuts and burn marks on his hands.

Another detail was how graceful and willowy he was.

Ginny was the only girl on a troop of boorish, and rough on the edges, brothers. Even her dad, the only _slenderly built_ Weasley in the family, was a little bit brusque in comparison with that stranger. She was a little bit TOO MUCH BRUSQUE than him! Her mom was a plum, short woman, Ginny was destined to possess some of that on her body.

Watching him walked head to the Madame Toulouse kiosk, made her see that he definitely was NOT walking. Not with that finesse.

Oh no, walking was what the other wizards in the wide lobby were doing. Some so awkwardly that they were bumping into each other like drunks' ducklings. He, even wearing those vile and gigantic footwear, was...slithering. Like a graceful, but most dangerous, cobra on the jungle.

A predator on the lookout.

Ginny chortled a tiny laugh at herself, for the silly though.

But that didn't stop her for watching him. He was far away now, far enough to not be able to hear his really beautiful and soothing voice, with the weird muggle slang usage. But all she needed to do was to see the blushing Madame Toulouse – Perdita, was her name – giggled upon receiving the handful of coins he was giving her.

"Aw! You are a tease, _mon petit chou!_!" she said, touching his left bicep with appreciation. " _Bonne chance_ with your meeting, cupcake! We will see you next Saturday!"

He, now walking backwards towards the elevator, responded by throwing a kiss into the air that only heated up the excited French lady a few notches up the scale. Ginny didn't wait another second. As a woman determined to get into the bottom of a mystery, she took three strides that were putting afar from the, still overheated, Madame Toulouse.

"Oh, dearie! _Je m'excuse,_ do you need something?"

Stage fright, perhaps.

To face the scrutiny of such a basic question, Ginny was faced with the reason behind everything she was doing at that specific moment. That, and The Prophet copy on the kiosk counter. An unfortunate coincidence that cruelly forced Madame Toulouse to look at the diary and its four headers of the day.

 _ **"Rising star... no more?"**_

" _ **Weasley mistakes the bludger for her partner's head"**_

" _ **A fight between rivals, who's going to win?"**_

" _ **Unexpected resignation, Weasley says: screw you!"**_

"Oh..." Madame Toulouse mumble a little bit abashed with the sorrow of someone who doesn't know what to say. "Anything I can help you with, dearie?" Listening to her pity, hurt almost as intensely as her fist the day she put a black eye on Bell bitch face five days ago. But Ginny, who was a hard-to-bend young girl made of steel, let out one of her best smiles.

"No, is all right, madame, I just wanted to..."

"In between us, dearie", interrupted her, "I don't believe in any of what Skeeter writes. _C'est une femme affreuse_. Always rude with my _beaux fils_ ", she said pointing her two, bulky and seven feet eight inches tall, sons cramped on the kiosk's tiny kitchen, baking small cupcake with pink frosting. Rumors said that they surely had a little bit of giant blood on their veins since Madame Toulouse was a tiny and delicate woman with the _oddness_ of France, which was a perfect explanation for Skeeter rudeness, and how Madame Toulouse liked to keep her sons out of sight on her small kitchen.

Ginny appreciated the woman's attempt to make her feel good giving her two knuts extra for her tea, but Madame Toulouse had a different plan.

"Oh no! _Mon cher_ child!The tea is on the house, dearie. My sons are huge fans of Quidditch, they told me how good of a beater you were, dearie. It's really a pity what happened".

"Yes, lass!", said one of the sons who apparated behind his small mother. Ginny could had felt intimidated by his HUGE body, and she almost did, but he was carrying a tray full of pink cupcakes and an honest and somehow handsome face. Pimples and blue eyes, with natural tousle dark hair complementing his look. "Mi brother and I loved attending quidditch matches once in a while, ya know", he said forcing a pink cupcake on her hands.

"Best beater on the whole team, I'm telling ya, lass. Right, bro?" said the other son. Shocker! He was attractive too!

"Oh…", well now she was felling really awkward, "You're too kind…" said Ginny, blushing and forgetting what the purpose of this conversation was.

"Hey! Ain't Black hooked with lassy, bro?" asked the brother with the cupcakes, making the one still on the kitchen cackle very loudly.

"Hooked, bro?! Kid is smitten with the lass!"

Black? Ginny, thought. Who is this Black? _DON'T GET DISTRACTED, WEASLEY!_

"Boys! _Est assez!"_ Madame Toulouse scolded her sons quieted them down with that motherly expertise that Ginny had seeing with her own mom. " _Je suis tellement désolé mon cher,_ my boys are a little too much sometimes. Did you have a question, dearie?"

Stage fright. Again.

Reluctantly, Ginny looked at the mystery man who started this whole charade. He was only three people away from the elevator, and Ginny wondered if it was really worth it. After all, she was late for her appointment. Something that, her mother assured it, was going to bring balance to Ginny's life. She did not feel in need of such a _balance_ , however, seeing her mother crying while placing ointment to her slashed and bruised face, gave some perception on her own actions. Reason why, instead of taking the first portkey to Romania to work with Charlie, Ginny was in the Ministry on a Monday morning, undergoing the voluntary torture of a job interview with the driest human being on earth.

What to do...?

Ok, there wasn't any other option.

Ginny Weasley, former beater of the Holyhead Harpies, was just minutes away from applying for a boring office job sponsored by Percy Weasley, aka: Minister of Magic assistant, and her older brother. With sorrow, Ginny observed the mystery man one last time.

Well, the decision was already made. Her ten minutes of annoying tardiness were complete. It was the best to just go and finish screwing Percy's day.

"It's nothing really, Madame. Have a nice day, you too boys! Bye!"

 _Here I go._

――――

Ginny liked to visit Auror Lord Potter portrait every time she was in the Ministry. She found it upsetting to see the funny man share a wall with the rest of morons that Fudge once handed over Orders of Merlin. And she enjoyed his pun-games and silly dad jokes, his anecdotes with his girlfriend and above all, Ginny loved to hear him talk about his son. She didn't remember any Harry Potter at Hogwarts, however, the portrait of a man who died 20 years ago wasn't the best source of information that you could get. That did not stopped Ginny of imagining the adorable baby in each of Mr. Potter stories.

It made her miss something that, even with a loving family, Ginny still knew of the lack of intimacy that James Potter printed in each one of his memories. To share the attention of two parents with six more people, is definitely not a simple task for a child. But to draw a little more attention on her hard-working parents who were maintaining a large family without going crazy... it was perhaps a low blow.

And to alleviate the guilt, Ginny learned how to enjoy afternoons of embroidery and weaving with her mother, Muggle Sundays with her father, and James Potter's almost endless anecdotes about a baby he could only interact with for a whole year before his tragic death.

It was the only topic of conversation, along with the bad jokes, that the artist could conjure in the painting. In life, James Potter was family man, dedicated and loved by his companions. An Auror who sacrificed his life for the sake of a group of children in a herd of werewolves. According with the small plaque under his frame. And Ginny resented that type of the disrespect with which the Ministry treated Lord Potter heroism. The condescending tone that a sub paid employee used to explain the living actions of James Fleamont Potter, and the absence of any decent piece of furniture in his painting. Sometimes, Ginny saw the poor man snoozing against the cheap frame of his painting, for any better option.

Ginny was pleased to appreciate that, at least, the peculiarity of the personality printed on the portrait, even if she had to remind him who she was for every visit she made, was really inspired accurately by the real Mr. Potter. Her short time as Auror apprentice helped her to ask around about Mr. Potter.

According to Ministry records, and some people that she interrogated, James Potter's death was an abrupt and unexpected event that not many felt sad about it. It was not a surprise, she thought. His posthumous bestowing of the Order of Merlin, third-class, and the wonky elaboration of his portrait was a representation made with the same awkwardness that Minister Cornelius Fudge engaged when things were not of his interest. Because, who really cared about a man who died protecting a group of werewolves? With so many laws and regulations against them, Ginny struggled to see the Ministry hand over an Order of Merlin for such a censored event.

It was thanks to the eternal hours of having to hear Percy talk about his work on every family dinner, that Ginny learned the reason why. It was necessary. Perhaps his actions were viewed with reproach, but Auror James Potter was a pure-blooded wizard from a really old and influencing family.

Obviously, the Minister was accomplishing his duty only for his own public image sake.

A pity.

"... and then the other guy said, 'hey dude, long time no see'. Did you get it: long time no _SEE"?_

"Because both are invisible!" James Potter exclaimed.

"YES"

"Ginevra!"

Two things happened at exactly the same time, at such a wild speed, that Ginny almost faint. That or the fact that Percy's imposing figure materialized by her side without any warning, making her lose her balance while seeing the mystery man in the lobby telling bad jokes with Mr. Potter painting. No, she wasn't imagining it. There he was, laughing and making James Potter laugh.

Those boots were hard to NOT see.

"You're late", were the words that took her out of her head. Still stunned by the two surprises, Ginny looked at her brother without understanding word of what he had said and looked back at Mr. Potter. They were saying goodbye now. The mystery man was leaving. "Ginevra! What are you doing?"

What's that?

Naturally, it was Percy's job to stop her from making a fool of herself.

Dismayed, Ginny spent a second regaining her composure and shaking his hand from holding her arm.

"Could you not manhandle me, dumbass. Thank you very much" Percy, familiar with the rudeness of the youngest member of his family, crossed his arms and frowned.

"You're late"

" _You're late_ " repeated Ginny, using Fred and George technique to turn every word said by Percy into a joke, "Dude, chill out, you said 'around ten", ok" She said, using her fingers to denote the quotes, because Percy hated that kind of thing, "don't lose your panties, yeez."

"I absolutely didn't say that!" Which was true, but Ginny didn't want to keep going with the conversation. It was her duty, as younger sister, to annoy him. Percy was just too dense to understand it, "I have a very busy schedule, Ginevra, and I don't...!"

"Yes, yes! Sure, thing Perce…"

"Don't call me Perce, you…! You…! Y-you…", he stopped amid word and Ginny smiled at the notorious defeat. If there was anything that unbalanced his circumspect and sour big brother, it was to fall into traps as dumb as that. A lifetime of being the victim of Fred and George jokes hadn't trained him enough, and Ginny knew it. He knew it. Forced to have to deal with him, the least thing that Ginny asked for was to be able to screw him up for a little bit of entertainment. "Ha, ha, very funny Ginevra…"

"All right, do you mind stopping with the Ginevra thing? It's getting on mi nerves, asshole." Percy ignored the comment with that irritable ability of him to overlook what he considered banal. Ginny hated it.

"Don't be foolish, Ginevra. Mother gave you that name, and that name I'll use. Now, would you be so kind as to follow me to my office? I have a lot to do." He did not wait for an answer, naturally removing all validity to any argument that Ginny could have, taking the opposite path directly to one of the offices in the hallway. Almost tempted to NOT follow him, Ginny was happy enough with giving to his back the middle finger.

She did not have more choices but to follow him. But before, Ginny cast a side glance at Mr. Potter's portrait. Obviously, Percy's presence frightened the mystery wizard, and Ginny felt forced to be more irritated to have to be there.

Percy's office was exactly as expected.

Cold, with no personality and uncomfortable. As if an eternally anal-retentive person had the misfortune of working there. Ginny watched her brother move with expertise in his tiny space and remembered that Percy Weasley was precisely an anal-retentive person. His desk lacked the slightest sample of...something. No photos, or even a plant. Nothing that wasn't organized scrolls. Ginny almost felt sorry for him, as she took a seat in the only chair available for visitors. Merlin, how awful that thing was! Stunned by the hardness which her ass was received, she watched Percy take a seat in his chair waiting for a reaction like hers. No, none. Percy was an already an uncomfortable person, the chair was but an extension of his personality.

"Tell me, do you have any experience with ledgers books?" It took her a full minute to understand that Percy wasn't joking. There, in his chair out of hell, with a scroll and quill on hand, her brother was expecting an honest answer to his question.

Bless Circe!

"What?". She asked. Stunned. Percy click his tongue and crossed something out on the parchment. The jerk.

"Do you know how to take dictations, Ginevra?"

"What…?", a new cross was made on the scroll.

"What about writing memos?"

"Memos...?"

"I don't think you are qualified for this job, Ginevra", he said while crossing another line on his list, with such a great nerve, that Ginny took long to feel offended. Percy was going so fast in his absurd boldness that Ginny was falling behind. "How many Newts did you get? Three? Well, you leave me with no more options, Ginevra. I really wanted to help you. Mother assured me you were ready, but I think Quidditch is your only forte. Well, it was, I think" Percy snorted while discarding the scroll in the trash that, Ginny assumed, was her resume. "I always said it, Quidditch is a wild and brutish sport, but for some reason I thought it was perfect for you, Ginevra. After the embarrassment of your expulsion from the Auror Academy, and your humiliating season studying wild creatures in Romania, I presumed that Quidditch was the decent kind job for someone like you. Now, it was very stupid of you to hit... AGH!"

It wasn't the bats coming out of his nose that helped Percy realize his mistake. It was to see Ginny emphasize her opinion of _his opinion,_ by taking the parchment with her data that he trashed away and putting it in front of Percy on his desk.

With extreme delicacy.

"Ok, dick, this is what you're gonna do" she said, rearranging scrolls and books on his desk because Percy obviously hated that kind of thing. "You're gonna do exactly what mom said you have to do. You will put your signature here," she pointed out her wrinkled contract with the strength to almost breaking a fingernail, "and you'll make a space for me in your awful office. Then, you'll go with dear Fudgy to tell him that by next Monday, you'll have a new assistant with nine Newts, approved by Outstanding and Exceed Expectations marks, who knows how to take dictations, write memos and keep ledgers books. Am I clear, Perce?" Dropping a few small tears for every bat that sought out to escape from its nostrils, Percy slowly nodded. "Perfect!"

The spell was lifted at the same time as both Weasleys heard an unexpected fuss on the other side of the door.

First it was a full course of rudeness and crass vocabulary, but by the time that Ginny heard the first Expelliarmus _,_ she and Percy ran to see what was going on. Four Aurors in the midst of a crowd of Ministry employees, trying really hard to apprehend the elusive man who kept releasing the most daring insults that Ginny, a promising student of Fred, George and Charlie in the art of crass talking, felt impressed.

"Get off me, you fucking cocksuckers!" he exclaimed, seeing himself without a wand after one of the Aurors managed to catch him chest to the floor. It turned out to be something... ridiculous, seeing four strong and well-trained men, struggling to keep a single man grounded.

"HARRY! STOP, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

Standing in the middle of the startled crowd was Kingsley Shacklebolt who only used a simple amplifying charm to stop what, Ginny expected, was another litany of bad words.

Chief of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ginny expected to see the man in his domain with _his_ Aurors, since Fudge was in charge, and both didn't have the best of the relationships. But there he was, imposing and dangerously angry, as he looked with hard eyes of disappointment at the figure imprisoned under the weight of four Aurors.

"What, in the name of Merlin, are you doing, boy?" said expelling a very strong _killing intent_ with each word.

"I just wanted to know why we get another penalty! But Fudge is too stupid to understand my fucking question!"

Ginny was... speechless.

She wasn't the only one.

Percy was close to have a stroke, as the Minister's crowd of supporting lackies. Even Fudge! The tiny purple-faced, trembling figure, wrapped by his bodyguards, looked in absolute horror at a civilian calling him stupid at his face.

Ginny considered it love at first sight.

"ENOUGH!" Snapped out Kingsley, before Fudge started demanding the traitor's head to be cut off. "Do you want to go to Azkaban?! That's what you wanted, uh, Harry?! Are you really want to be as stupid as Black and gave me a fucking stroke, boy?! DID YOU THOUGH ABOUT YOUR MOTHER, GODDAMNIT?!"

That seemed to shut him up.

He was no longer making growling noises, only leaving a grumpy grimace worthy of a child after a good dressing down. It was in that exact moment that Ginny knew who he was: It was him! The mystery man! Well, under four aurors wasn't the perfect angle to see his face, but the long and pinkish tongue of the pygmy puff, that was savagely abusing the aurors nostrils and ears, was her first clue.

"Hey, Kingsley! Don't be so rough with the boy, will you?"

Mr. Potter spoke, crushed among a platoon of wizards and witches from other paintings with worse views than his. And Ginny noticed his worried expression.

Oh... that face.

Her neck almost gave her a whiplash after she tried to contemplate both at the same time. But yes, there was no doubt.

"HEY, TAKE YOUR HANDS-OFF FROM PO!" The mystery man shouted as he saw his little friend imprisoned with cruel intentions in the hands of one of the Auror. "I'M GONNA FUCKING…!"

"HARRY JAMES BLACK!"

Black?

Stunned, Ginny observed Mr. Potter.

That didn't make any sense. They were…almost identical.

What…is going on?

"Dawlish, give me the creature", demanded Kingsley. But neither of them counted on how elusive one of Fred and George Weasley's creations could be. The little pygmy puff bit his captor and jumped away of his offended hands, landing on the shoulder of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement chief who, undeterred by it, accepted the company in silence.

The Auror, resentful of little Po's attack, took both of the young man arms twisting them like some kind of pretzel dough behind his back. Neither Ginny nor Kingsley, much less Mr. Potter appreciated the gesture. Dawlish, recalled Ginny, was a stupid jerk who played like a sport being insufferable. It was a total coincidence that he was the same who read her rights when Bell accused her with the authorities after her black eye.

And he was the same too, who kept making fun of her at the Academy, and one of the partners in crime who thought that touching her without her consent was an adequate pastime.

Ginny just hated him a little more now.

"Potter", began to say Kingsley to the portrait, probably in the midst of finding a way to quell any more disasters, while watching with disapproval eyes Dawlish curl Black's arms with unnecessary force, "I'd appreciate it if you don't meddle in..."

"Hey!", Dawlish's attempts to restraint him weren't enough to stop the young man from twisting a little more in his wrath. "DON'T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT"

"BLACK!" Shouted Kingsley, "You've already dug your grave very deep, boy. I'd appreciate it if you'd shut the fuck up before I place your sad ass with the nearest dementor available, am I clear?".

Ginny, speechless, saw herself with the task of trying to do something. No one seemed to appreciate her new discovery. Percy trembled like a flea puppy, his face becoming redder and redder with each passing second. And the rest of the employees, Minister included, expected someone to massacre the profane sinner.

Yes, it was definitely her mission to do something.

Three steps later and Ginny stopped herself when she saw Kingsley do the pose of a parent about to scold a naughty child. With his composure in order, he obligated his subordinates to release the wizard. Dawlish, who was over-enjoying being able to have the rebel under his weight, took more time to released. Ginny noticed that she wasn't the only one angry about it. Kingsley was reeking disappointment and anger.

"All right, everybody gets to work! The show is over, come on! Dawlish, Jameson, Curtis, Terrence, go back to the office, I'll handle him. Now!"

"But, Kingsley...!"

"Mr. Minister, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Kingsley interrupted him earning Ginny's deep appreciation. "I assure you", he said throwing an angry look at the boy who now was picking up his glasses from the ground and ripping off his wand from Dawlish hands, "this is not going to happen again. Right, Harry? Tell Mr. Fudge that you are sorry"

"I am not…!"

"Tell, Mr. Fudge. That. You. ARE. Sorry. Black"

"I am sorry, Mr. Fudge"

"But...!" Fudge tried again, but Kingsley, obviously didn't allow it.

"I'm sure Harry didn't mean to offend you, did you, Harry?" It was exactly the same technique his mother used with her children. Even Percy had the decency to feel sorry for him. "Harry!"

"All right, all right! I'm sorry I called you stupid, Minister. Happy?!" Even Kingsley knew to choose his battles, ignoring the attitude of the young mouth.

Unhappy, Fudge decided to keep his dignity seeing his power of authority been overshadowed by Kingsley Shacklebolt's male supremacy. _I'm sure nothing new for him_ , thought Ginny. His jurisdiction was perpetually tarnished by almost half a population of authority of the Ministry. Reluctantly, Cornelius Fudge picked up his little entourage of cronies and returned to his office. Percy took that as a sign that he too should return to his office, and simply grabbed arm willing to drag her to the safety of his four walls.

Ginny had not been raised under the power of six oppressive brothers for nothing.

"What did I say about touching me, Perce?" She said shaking off his hands off her. Kingsley had also dispatched his Aurors, who, still reluctant, made their way to the elevator leaving their leader with the only company of "Harry James Black"and the portrait of Mr. Potter.

In addition to Ginny, Percy and Po, the pygmy puff on Kingsley's shoulder.

"Ginevra...!"

"Shut your trap, Perce, yeez!"

This was important, and Ginny, unfortunate, was a little bit noisy. Just like her mom.

"Tell me, Harry, what am I going to do with you?" Enraged, _Harry James Black_ , shrugged at the tangible sound of disappointment in Kingsley's voice. "I'm sure your mother won't be happy if you're arrested again, Harry. She had enough with Black being away for another month"

"Ok, I'm sorry! I am sorry, Circe!" Exclaimed, but it only needed two seconds to all defiance and contempt to disappeared from his body. Kingsley and Ginny noticed it, how the moodiness evaporated giving way to a sadness of those that break your heart. Even the little ball of hairs on Kingsley's shoulder changed its vibrant pink color to a blue as sad as its owner. "I'm sorry, Kingsley. I really am". Like a defeated soldier, he expelled a long and hurtful sigh. "I also apologize, da... Mr. Potter," he said, this time to the portrait who now enjoyed his space free of other gossip portraits. He did not look happy with his newly returned freedom, in fact, he looked just as miserable as little Po. Even Kingsley looked a little bit glum. "Thanks for defending me, I guess"

"Harry..." Kingsley started, but Ginny knew instantly that anything he wanted to say, was not going to be enough to make up for anything. Immediately, Ginny felt like the most terrible of the intruders.

"I've already wasted my time here, I have to go, ok. With the new penalty in our asses, Mom must go to Gringotts for another loan and I promised to be her date today, you know. Now that Mr. Bat is having his last me-time at Hogwarts, she's feeling way to lonely. Also, without Padfoot to be her bitch, I've double shift making her happy. Plus, she wants me to keep an eye on Teddy. He's very excited, you know, today the kids are gonna deliver the flyers in Diagon Ally". Ginny didn't know what he was talking about, of course, but Kingsley smiled, gently taking little Po off his shoulder and return it to his owner. "Are we expecting you next Saturday? Tonks save you a box, just for you. She is waiting for you to bring a girlfriend this time." He said with a smile that Ginny swore seeing on Mr. Potter's face every time he shared one of his most sordid and inappropriate jokes.

Was she the only one who noticed?

Kingsley answered the girlfriend comment by shrugging.

"I'll go, but I promise nothing. If I take someone, it will be most likely Alastor," he said, very aware of how horrible that sounded.

Both Ginny, and "Harry James Black", responded in the way that any wizard or witch responds to the mention of Alastor Moody: shrinking from fear. Ginny remembered one of the most fearsome teachers at the academy. The respect for the man was proportional to the fear of being blacklisted by him.

"Sure, but only if he promising to control his wand. And his mouth. Sergei still freaks out every time someone says "constant vigilance" in his presence, okay? Mom doesn't want to explain, again, why our one hundred-year-old vampire suffers from panic attacks in the next _raid,_ ok."

"I'm sure I can arrange that, only if Lupin promise to make his famous shepherd pie for him. You know how ole' Moddy is hooked by Remus food".

"Yeah…makes Tonks rabid. Well, I guess it's about time" he said, "see you Saturday, Kingsley, mom wants you to stay for dinner after the show. Moody included, I guess".

"Of course, kiddo"

"See you later, Mr. Potter"

"Take great care, my dear boy!"

"Don't cause too much trouble, Harry. I'd hate to have to arrest you again. I've got enough on my plate with Black terrorizing everyone in Azkaban"

"Hey, it's not my fault! I'm not looking for trouble, they…"

"They get you. Yes, yes, I know that story. You're so much like your father... Hey, Harry, watch out!"

"Ginevra!"

Ginny did not know what had happened, or how it had happened. At one point she had gone from being in the middle of the corridor with Percy, to being in the arms of the most beautiful green eyes bearer that she ever seen in her life.

Shit…

A cliché so overused that only the surprise of seeing her in such an embarrassing situation stopped her from protesting. That and the pink pygmy puff who looked angry from its owner's shoulder. She was in his way, obviously. She felt foolish for not to guess the collision between the two when it was an inevitable outcome. But still perched in the middle of those two well-formed arms Ginny allowed herself to not feel bad about it, and to absorb, this time closer, his face.

Yes, though a little younger, was the same face in Mr. Potter's portrait.

How is she the only one to notice?

"Ginevra!" Sooner than she would have wanted, Ginny was out of the embrace thanks to her brother's unappreciated attempt to save her decorum. What a bastard. "Could you be more careful where you walk, savage?!"

"Everything all right, Miss Weasley?" Kingsley asked. Stunned as she was, it took her five seconds to discover that he was talking to her and not to Percy, the other Miss Weasley. "Harry, how many times has your mother told you that...? Harry?".

Ginny wasn't the only one surprised.

Kingsley and Percy shared their astonishment when the highly blushed alluded started to run, RUN, away from the crime scene, disappearing behind the elevator doors.

The sea of emotions fluttering inside her was clumped into a slimy mass that, Ginny Weasley, defined as confusion as she looked at his back with the small handful of pink hairs on his shoulder disappearing away from her sight.

"What…?"

She sought some kind of answer on her companions, but only lord Potter seemed to know something. Not exactly the best source of information that Ginny wanted, until something changed in Kingsley's stunned expression.

Recognition.

"I apologized, Miss Weasley", he said. Ginny was beyond disturbed to see Mr Potter's smile being employed by Kingsley, "Don't take it wrong. I'm sure Harry feels very sorry for this incident, after all, he's your biggest fan _…_ "

Fan?

 _Fan?_

Percy snorted, it was hard for him to compute the fact of someone being _fan_ of his failed younger sister, and Ginny was too busy fiddling Kingsley's words to react offended. Was he her Fan? Her fan of what? Yes, former member of a major Quidditch team could be considered reason enough to having a _fan-club_. With an entire season as a beater and a reputation fit to be regarded as a decent player, it was not uncommon to have some sports fanatics appreciate her game. However, Ginny called the end of it after she put a black eye on the face of the most famous player of the team.

Apparently, there were still people who appreciated her no matter how much Skeeter took effort onto be a cruel bitch when it came to writing. Even after Bell ruined her reputation, saying that Ginny Weasley was a cheater.

" _Hey! Ain't Black hooked with lassy, bro?"_

" _Hooked, bro?! Kid is smitten with the lass!"_

Black. How many Blacks are out there in magical London?

Coincidence?

 _I don't think so._

"All right! My work here is done", said Kingsley. "Weasley, Miss Weasley, have a nice day".

Kingsley was out.

The viscous mass defined as confusion inside of her, turned a violent red color changing the name into irritation. Obviously, Ginny was missing some part of the mystery and she didn't like it at all. Percy behaved with the same kindness as ever, demanding surely her attention in the most annoying and offensive way possible, but Ginny did not listen to him.

"Don't forget, Perce: nine Newts, ok? See you Monday"

Before Percy could said something about it, Ginny was out too. She was in a hurry. In a hurry to decipher a mystery.

―――――――

 **Uff, this was a hard one.**

 **Hello. This story used to be in Spanish, but I just decided to just…make it in English. Even though is not my language, of course. I don't have a beta, so if there is some interested, I'm all ears, and I am really sorry for any mistake. I want to know your opinions about this story, I took me a while but finally I am feeling satisfied and happy with it. I would appreciate your comments! :)**

 **This is not going to be a super loooong story, but I can't promise that I am going to updated it very often. Even with these crazy times of quarantine, I am still working two jobs :( So, be patient with me, please. I am trying.**

 **I am having too much fun writing this, so I'm not going to stop. Don't worry.**

 **I don't know when I'm going to update the next chapter, I'm working on it already, but if everything goes as I planned, probably in two weeks.**

 **Thank you for reading my story, I hope you liked it.**

 **Bye bye!**


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